


Only Thirteen

by chochoushi



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Female Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, Hanahaki Disease, M/M, Pining, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-16
Updated: 2017-11-23
Packaged: 2019-02-03 05:13:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12741708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chochoushi/pseuds/chochoushi
Summary: Lance becomes sick after visiting a foreign planet. The Voltron Team searches for answers, frantically attempting to find cures across the planet of Awidelin, which happens to be the planet in which he first contracted the disease from. The symptoms are inconvenient, but so is the fact that they have only thirteen days to discover a cure or the Blue Paladin will be no more. Will they find what they are looking for? Or will Lance suffer a slow and painful demise?





	1. Oenothera Albicaulis

The day was simplistic; and there was hardly a rush in the morning, breakfast was provided, and the dynamic of the team continued naturally throughout the rooms in the Castle of Lions. Nothing was particularly out of the ordinary, aside from the loss of enthusiasm. Lance was feeling under the weather; being confined to his bed quarters after Hunk’s frantic coddling over his temperature. 

Hunk, their Yellow Paladin with the biggest heart had been humble enough to set aside his project with Pidge to be able to tend to Lance during the drawn-out hours of the day. Upon his report, Lance seemed to have a common cold, a bit congested and irritable, but nothing more. It wasn't anything risky, but it wouldn't damage him to rest up a bit. Rasping, pitiful groans could be heard from his room, and whoever walked past gave an eye roll and passed it off as the quirky, dramatic personality Lance had owned ever since the debut of Voltron. The paladins, including Lance, had all gone to their respective rooms and most were out like a light.

Besides Lance, of course. 

And what’s more, Keith.

Of course, Keith had to deal with the repercussions. Of course, he was the lucky guy in the room right next to the kid hacking up a lung. A peaceful nights sleep was a world away, leaving the Red Paladin living up to his name; angry and boastfully annoyed. With a violent growl and a wall being the only thing keeping him from beating the living hell out of his fellow Paladin, he settled to tell him to ‘shut the hell up’ angrily, only to receive no reply, but rather a sickening retching sound ripping from Lance’s body. 

Not much time passed before Hunk was there. It was a bit ironic, seeing as to how a normal reaction to the sight would have triggered the Yellow Paladin’s own gag reflex; but nothing came other than the sounds of Hunk’s insistent demands to awaken. It wasn’t long before Keith could hear the two outside of his door, traipsing down the hall to the showers. He assumed they both probably had some nasty stomach shit all over the front of their shirts and decided not to go out and check on the two as planned, especially after getting a waft of the rancid scent after sliding his door open. 

Yeah. 

He decided to sit this one out. 

.·:*¨ ¨*:·.

Keith slept lightly, and hushed noises awoke him. Outside his doorway, Hunk’s and Coran’s voices were both hastily chattering amongst themselves. With the trademark sound of his door ‘wooshing’ open, the two men averted their attention to Keith. Hunk had broken out in a cold sweat, his fingers trembling against his lips, and Coran’s exhausted smile gave away the unfortunate situation. 

Lance was sick. As in, sick enough for a healing pod. 

“We’ve placed him in a cryo-pod, and it should do him some good!” Coran explained, the dainty Altean gesturing wildly as he spoke. 

Keith sighed disdainfully, crossing his arms over his chest, and staring down the hallway, towards the training deck. Lance was a part of Voltron, they couldn't have him decommissioned for too long. “How long with this take?” He asked, his tone of voice annoyed and gruff. He carded a hand through his hair, awaiting an answer. 

Keith had been sick before, flu, fever, colds, nausea, and much more. The day before, he had come to an assumption that Lance was simply being dramatic; a farcical display of sickness that most likely wasn’t as severe as Lance had made it. Of course, vomiting wasn’t the most enjoyable feeling, but Lance could have survived it without using a healing pod. Keith, as usual, was dismissive after Hunk informed him that Lance would have twenty-four hours of downtime at the most. It was hard to pity the Blue Paladin; Lance’s behavior made it hard to distinguish whether something was actually disturbing him or if it was a petty excuse for attention. 

.·:*¨ ¨*:·.

Training was similar to that of a napping child’s white noise; a constant in Keith’s schedule and hard to avoid doing. At a time like this, nothing was particularly bothering him. Nothing on his mind. Emptiness. Exhaustion. Keith had experienced it plenty of times before; it was a guilty pleasure of his, quite honestly. Forcing the ache into his bones; sweat dripping off the hairs and onto the back of his neck sent shivers down his spine. Working hard was… euphoric. 

Keith would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy the feeling of obliterating a training bot; it was the best-goddamned feeling ever. The automated voice inquiring upon whether or not the subject would like to continue. Yes, yes, yes. Time was non-existent, and there was nothing. 

At least until the training deck doors flew open. 

Katie Holt was a frail girl; a hilarious, snappy thing at heart though. A bit of childlike wonder remained in that little heart of hers, being only fifteen years old. She leaned against the frame of the opaque door, letting out a sigh. It was often Keith was caught working himself to the bone and was interrupted. Although, Pidge wasn’t one to intrude, and with a languid wave and a tap on the frame of her glasses, she opened her mouth to speak. 

“Lance is awake.” 

“Already?” 

A shrug. 

“Healing pod isn't doing much, so we kicked him out.” 

“If I was a healing pod I would want to kick him out too,” Keith muttered bitterly, tucking his Bayard in the juncture of his arm. 

Pidge snorted, and nodded her head cautiously, eyeing Keith’s sheathed Bayard. “That makes two of us.” 

Keith sighed, a minuscule furrow forming between his eyebrows. He hooked his Bayard onto his belt loop, his calloused knuckles flexing. A rivulet of sweat rolled down his temple, catching on the soft baby hairs that rested just below his earlobe. A small part of Keith wanted to see the Blue Paladin, to revel in the feeling of knowing that he was too tired to make any snarky comments, which gave him the perfect opportunity to throw his own at the dumbass. He spent a moment wiping the sweat off of his forehead with the seam of his shirt, then proceeded to trail behind Pidge as they both trekked toward room filled with cryopods, and Lance looked sickly. 

Lance, who was a fairly attractive kid, looked as though he was a foot or two in the grave. His caramel skin wasn’t really caramel anymore. He was irregularly pale, leaning against the cryo-pod, huffing out labored breaths, and allowing his jaw to fall lax, an obvious sign that acid was bubbling up in his throat, which thankfully willed Keith to avert his gaze as Lance hurled into some weird-ass hovering container, presumably Altean. A muted whirring sound sounded from it, apparently doing some weird wormholing shit, apparating the fluids to God knows where. 

A thin sheen of sweat glistened on Lance’s skin, and his delicate lips trembled. Hunk was offering him water from a pouch, and Lance gratefully took it, sipping on it now and then. Looking up, Lance grinned and opened his mouth to speak, “Wow, the whole gang is here for me?” He was interrupted by a fit of coughs, which did not help the hoarseness of his voice. 

“Don’t worry about me, guys. I'm sure it will blow over--” Lance paused and gazed up at Hunk as he intervened. 

“The pod looked him over and said he’s got something bothering his lungs, but it's not anything major. Like he said, it will blow over.” Hunk explained, and as the Paladins directed their attention to him, they noticed Hunk himself wasn't looking so hot, livid circles under his eyes from being up all night with Lance and viewing him while he rested in the pod. 

Allura spoke up and smiled gratefully at him. “Thank you for everything Hunk, but you seem to need a bit of rest yourself. Why don't you go relax in your chambers, for just a little while? Lance is in good hands.” 

Hunk was reluctant, but at Lance’s affirmative nod, he sighed, rubbing his temples with his index fingers. “Just for a little while, then.” 

Lance, strangely enough, looked relieved, and he smiled weakly, waving him off and turning to coughing into his bicep. It made the Paladin look like he just ran a damn marathon, truthfully. Keith winced and glanced at Shiro, who had already stepped up and knelt at Lance’s side, placing his left arm on the paladin’s shoulder, giving a warming, fatherly smile, one that was occurring with Shiro’s personality. Lance shuddered at the contact, the touch giving his body an unusual reaction to the temperature around him, along with the newly added body heat. 

“Alright, Lance. How can we help?” Shiro asked, shifting himself in Lance’s line of sight. 

Keith almost pitied him, the amount of sound in the room must have been difficult for Lance, because he was rubbing his temples with a soft sigh. Lance had a headache, it was evident. Keith frowned, and gave Pidge a look, one that said ‘should I do something?’. Pidge responded with a shrug, and Lance inhaled deeply, turning his head. The amount of oxygen that fell from Lance’s tired body began fogging up the exterior of the healing pod. Languidly, Lance’s head lolled back against the transparent container, making it pitifully evident he yearned for sleep.

His eyes fluttered closed. 

“Just need some help. Getting to my room, m’pretty tired.” He muttered, despite seeming very content resting back against the healing pod. 

Shiro, built like the God he was, spent a few minutes hauling Lance to his bedroom. Coran took on Hunk’s responsibilities, and tended to him if he was having trouble, whether he needed water or simply just a comforting hand, the ginger was always willing to reach out a warm and welcoming hand, rubbing lightly in small circles between the Cuban’s scapulae. 

Pidge had gone on her way. Not that she was particularly uncaring, but simply because she was sent away with a few warm smiles after Coran and Shiro informed her that everything was taken care of, and she was welcome to return to whatever piece of technology she was previously occupied with. 

Keith experienced the same treatment, and ended up in the kitchen after a bout of training sessions, stabbing a straw through the small circle of foil at the top of the pouch that held a few ounces of water. The smooth slide in his throat brought an exhilarating, cool feeling to the pit of his stomach. Keith wiped his mouth the back of his hand, sighing gently, and letting his head fall back. 

He and Lance weren’t exceptionally close, that much was obvious to even the most peculiar of alien races. Hunk and Lance had been roommates in the Garrison, evident through the loads of stories they told, spending nights together eating pizza rolls and watching Mystery Science Theater 3000 and laughing their asses off at absolutely nothing due to a loopy side effect to sleep deprivation. 

Pidge had spent time with the two boys as well, despite her identity being forged, her personality was exactly the same, leaving the trio’s relationship to be maintained with the additional mind melds of the lions. 

Shiro had taken a liking to them all, and even though he was like a brother to Keith, he knew Shiro constantly fretted over everyone’s well-being, especially Lance’s due to his reckless behavior. Allura and Coran were similar, although it was blatantly obvious Lance’s was Coran’s favorite. 

So, the team was fearful of what would happen to their sharpshooter. Of course, Keith cared; it simply didn't phase him much. Lance’s issue was yet to be diagnosed, luckily enough Voltron wasn't needed at the time Lance was bedridden. Keith had grown accustomed to the coughing fits during the nights inside the castle, vomiting was less frequent, to the relief of everyone in the Castle of Lions. 

Three quintants had passed of disturbingly powerful sickness before Allura and Coran stepped up, addressing the issue and doing some bloodwork. Lance didn't protest, in a desperate attempt to improve his condition. It was tiring for the team, but it seemed dwindling for Lance most of all. Coran and Hunk fretted most of the time, Keith could view the worry on Shiro’s face, and Allura’s followed suit. Pidge didn't show it as much, but the snarky comments had increased uncomfortably. 

Lance spent an increased amount of time swaddled in a blanket, whether it was sitting on the couch, waddling around in the hallways or lying in bed, it had been what felt like years since his body had emerged from the navy blue fleece. He had become unexpectedly clingy, pressed into Hunk’s side at any given moment, whining for a hug from Pidge, Coran, and even Shiro (who was more than happy to do such, though he would never admit to it.) 

Lance and Hunk were lounging in the common area of the castle when Pidge perked up, her face scrunching up inquisitively, grunting as to get attention, something she commonly did when she was struck with a revelation. 

“The planet. The planet with the Zuni tribes. Maybe you ingested something there that messed with your biology.” 

Hunk’s physique adjusted accordingly, he, most of all, was relieved about the breakthrough. Deciding to look into it, he stood, removing himself from Lance’s side, an action done perfunctorily. The Cuban whined pitifully, reaching out for the familiar warmth once again. Like that of a small child, Lance gave up his antics eventually. He lied down on his side, tugging a lightweight blanket over his shoulders. The Yellow and Green Paladin were huddled together now, staring at multiple monitors. As much as it pained Lance to be quashed by his main comforter, he couldn’t bring himself to find the motivation to shift his position. Lance was haggard, truthfully. His limbs were heavy with exhaustion, and helplessness weighed heavy on his heart. With no strength remaining to pity himself, Hunk and Pidge worked diligently, while Lance fell into a short, fitful slumber. 

.·:*¨ ¨*:·.

The planet of the Zuni was still in close proximity, the trip only being a few days long. The team decided to not risk making a wormhole jump, leaving most of the members busy tending to Lance. 

It wasn’t a difficult task. It was just aggravating. The Blue Paladin would simply complain all throughout the day, and it was driving them all to madness. Even Hunk had grown tired of Lance’s insistent complaints, which was surprising for the rest of them. Water, then food, then more blankets, this and that and this. Why they had shifts was obvious. Keith and Allura maintained their distance, Allura so she could maintain her duties and Keith for fear of beating the shit out of Lance.

Although it was stressful, most of the group managed. Excluding Keith. It seemed surreal, how the two could still bicker and argue in such a puerile state. Only once did Shiro have to intrude. 

.·:*¨ ¨*:·.

They were seventeen hours away from Awidelin, and Keith had bitten his tongue long enough. He broke when Lance trembled, glancing up at Keith, and asking for another blanket, which Keith had done multiple times now, walking back and forth between dressers and storage closets. With an aggravated shout, Keith threw his hands in the air violently.

“This is bullshit!” He exclaimed gruffly, tossing the damp cloth for Lance’s forehead onto the floor of his living quarters, “For days now we’ve all been at your beck and call, only for you whine, whine, and whine some more!” 

Lance, with a thin sheen of sweat on his face, looked awkwardly freaked out, and it almost made Keith pause. With a disdainful shake of his head, he kept his arms raised. His face was screwed up with displeasure and ire towards the Blue Paladin. Lance wasn’t defenseless, but he was rather incoherent in his mucus-y state of mind. 

This pissed Keith off, seeing someone so pitifully weak. 

“This week has been a living hell for everyone but you. You’re unbelievable, you know that?” Keith scoffed out his words, resentment flooding his senses as he stalked towards the doorway. He momentarily stilled though, as the door revved open. 

Shiro entered, looking shocked, and a bit frantic towards both of the young men. Cluelessly, he looked back and forth between them. 

“What’s happening? Jesus, Lance--” 

The sickening convulsion that overcame Lance’s chest shocked the two men that stood in the room. The Blue Paladin slapped his hand over his mouth, clenching on his lips, chapped from neglect and ignorance. The sickening burn in his throat could be heard through those frail fingers, gasping and gagging held back by only pale, trembling digits. 

Shiro made his way over, frantic at first. A moment of silence was dedicated to himself as he resurfaced as a father figure once more, and he became unusually placid as he removed Lance’s hand from his mouth, peeling his damp hair back from his oily forehead. He carefully placed a few claps on his back, and then squeezed his shoulder comfortingly, lifting his Galran hand towards Keith, and shooing him out. 

Keith did as he was told, and left the room, a bit of steam still leaking from his ears as his boots clomped down the hallway. 

Meanwhile, as Lance broke out of his coughing fit, he glanced down at his fingers, connected and dirtied by congealed, glistening strings of blood.


	2. Oenothera Odorata

The Zuni people of Awidelin had been under Galran control for decades now, with little hope of ever finding salvation. Their technology was based solely on agriculture. The Galra found the planet as a useful outpost, and the Zunis labored continuously. 

With no way to release a stress signal, the Voltron team was only able to find the desponding planet through Pidge’s technology that revealed Galran outposts. A significant Galran general had allegedly been spotted there, and the Paladins sought him out. 

When they arrived at the planet, it was a pale lime color, lilac clouds swirling around in the atmosphere, disturbed only by the entry of five mechanical lions. Tattered, small settlements were scattered along the visible horizon, vulnerable and full of fearful aliens. Next to each settlement was a field nearly twice the size of it, colored all kinds of colors and blooming all kinds of unorthodox fruits and vegetables. 

When Lance stepped out of his lion, he observed the landscape sadly. The breathable air filled his lungs, earthy and tainted with the scent of what he could only assume was fertilizer. It nearly reminded him of his own home, how he and his mother would grow strawberries and tomatoes, and milk their goats with ridiculous names. Looking at the stricken faces of the Zunis, he hoped they would have something similar in the future. 

It was a stealth mission. They were meant to infiltrate the outpost and take down the commander, destroying him and all of the scars the Galra left on the land. Pidge had already been sent in on Shiro’s command with Hunk at her side, leaving him and Keith while Shiro attempted to avert the attention of the Galra. Lance was blabbering in a moderate tone as he and the Red Paladin traveled the halls of the facility. Lance had hardly noticed Keith’s clenched fists and the furrow in his brow. Evidently annoyed, but the Blue Paladin was undeterred. Opening his big mouth, distracted by a recent memory of a successful shot with his bayard, a phrase struck up a small, hollowing pain in his chest. 

“Do you ever shut up?” Keith had said angrily, his face scrunched up like an agitated kindergartner. 

It was something Lance was used to, it was often Keith snapped at him to his loquaciousness. But this one hurt. 

Like, physically. His chest kind of hurt and a weak huff of breath ended up neutralizing the new feeling in his chest. Assuming it simply must have been the alien air, Lance shrugged and retorted snappily.

“I can, but I won’t.” 

It was a well-known fact not to ask for advice about maturity and responsibility from Lance McClain.

 

.·:*¨ ¨*:·.

Seeing the Zuni people once again brought a timid smile to Lance’s face. Working willfully on their own time as families reminded him of Earth once more. Keith viewed the aliens from afar, defensive posture overcoming his overall demeanor. The race of aliens could be described as cute, for lack of a better term. Ranging from colors of a pastel pink to a forest green, the Zuni’s were diverse. Most had curled, hollow pieces of cartilage at the top of their heads, curling inwardly into distinct shapes, and each one was unique, in shape, color, pattern, and many other categories. It reminded the team of home in a way, each life form was diverse and beautiful. 

The peaceful pocket of time didn't last though, with Lance’s heavy, unclear breaths, they all knew they had much to lose if they weren't careful. Hunk had remained at Lance’s side, something that was reoccurring even in their Lions, side by side and offering their Paladin’s minds temporary serenity. 

It didn't last though, Lance was trembling under the heat of the Awedelian sun, sighing heavily into the fabric that hid Hunk’s shoulder. 

Shiro had stepped forward, striking up a conversation with the settlement leader; maroon with ears curving outwards and high into the air. The ends drooped slightly, and something that seemed to look like a dream catcher hung off the end. 

“We’ve returned with some unfortunate news.” Shiro told him, “Our Blue Paladin has fallen ill, and we’ve come to the conclusion that it could have resulted from our previous escapades on this planet.” 

The few Awedelians in the surrounding area focused their attention onto the Paladin, his posture leaking exhaustion. Most of the aliens in the tribe were timid pinks and oranges, pleasing to the eye, with minuscule ears. 

Hunk stepped forward, wrapping his knuckles against his hips anxiously. “He’s been coughing up clots, a-and he’s been running a fever. He’s super mucus-y, and every time I think about it I almost throw up in the soup I make for him! You have to know what's happening, c-could you please give us answers? Is there a cure?”  
“-Hunk.” Shiro interjected, placing a hand on his shoulder, giving a curt nod as a signal for him to step back and get some air. Shiro took his place, crossing his arms over a chest tight with tension, and spoke accordingly to the posture. 

“Like Hunk said, Lance is sick, coughing up congestion, and vomiting every now and then. Our treatments aren't working, and we can only assume that this is the source of the issue. Do you know anything with these symptoms?” 

Some of the life forms before them started at Lance quizzically, others looked fearful, but most looked frightened. 

Pursing his lips, the leader of the tribe spoke. “Hanahaki.” He whispered, close to quaking. 

“You must leave.” He was stern, emphasizing his statement with a outstretched hand, pointing toward the Lions once more. 

There was a moment of tense silence between the two races. Shiro opened his mouth to try again. 

“Please explai-” 

“No! You must leave, I cannot allow him here to simply infect my people. Remove him, or we will.” It wasn't an empty threat, and a few more futile attempts of socialization ended in more, so they took a hike, deciding to hole up in the castle of lions for a bit longer to see if they could attempt to discover information from other Awedelians. 

Keith folded his arms as he sat on the couch in the main living area, his voice hushed and stern as he hissed to Pidge. “Can’t you find out what it is with your tech, or something?” 

Pidge grumbled, turning to face her fellow Paladin. “I already did, Keith. There isn't any documentation of anything called Hanahaki..we’re kind of at an impasse.” 

Keith huffed angrily, locking his fingers around the flesh of his biceps and squeezing. With a sigh, he stared at the ceiling, his jaw tightening. “This is ridiculous.” He murmured. 

Allura cut them off with a cry, pointing to the screen, entailing that a Awedelian was trying to gain entrance. They knocked on the particle barrier, small and colored a gentle baby blue. 

They Paladins cautiously exited the castle, all but Lance of course, and stood before the small alien. 

“Who are you?” Keith exclaimed. 

Allura shot a look, but before she could speak, the alien beat her to it. 

“On the highest peak, Galla awaits you. She is the only one who can cure the Hanahaki. There are thirteen days remaining.” 

And with that, the Awedelian sped off into the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finished this is Black Friday lines. Happy thanksgiving. 
> 
> This has many grammar errors, I'm aware and will fix them when it isn't midnight.

**Author's Note:**

> I originally planned for this chapter to be longer, around four-thousand words, but I was blinded by the excitement to post it. So, here it is, the first chapter of Only Thirteen. 
> 
> I am still a student, and while my goal is to update this weekly, I can't make any promises. Update information will most likely be highlighted on my blog, which is the exact same as my username. 
> 
> This is un-beta'd, but then again, I did re-write and edit this six different times, so I like to think it will hopefully be acceptable, but, If you do end up finding a mistake, let me know! I'll do my best to fix it.


End file.
